


A Little Like Love

by writesometimes



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Canon, Soft and Gentle and Warm, This was just a really sad excuse for me to write 5k of pure ineffable fluff, they're so soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 16:35:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19772155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writesometimes/pseuds/writesometimes
Summary: There was always a feeling in the air wherever Crowley was. A gentle and comforting warmth that Aziraphale's brain kept labeling as 'affection' and 'love' and Aziraphale kept labeling 'don't think about it too much'. For his own sanity, of course.-Or, five times Aziraphale feels love from Crowley and one time he tells Crowley he loves him.





	A Little Like Love

It was well past two in the morning when Aziraphale poured himself another glass of wine. He'd already finished off a bottle on his own, but he was feeling quite restless so he forgave himself. He shifted silently in his arm chair and tried to relax just a bit more, tried to get his mind to stop frantically wandering. The months since the apocalypse had been effectively canceled had been a rather confusing time for the angel. For the first time in all his years he had no orders from the head offices, no deadlines, nothing. He wasn't really sure what to do with himself. He had all the time in the world to do whatever he wanted but, for the life of him, he couldn't figure out _what that was_. Crowley had flippantly suggested he take up sleeping a few days ago, but no matter how hard Aziraphale tried he couldn't understand the appeal of lying still for hours at a time.

Aziraphale glanced over at the empty couch across from him and sighed. _Crowley_. He'd politely declined the angel's dinner invitation for the evening, yawning into the phone as he told Aziraphale he was in the mood for a good, long nap and maybe they could grab lunch the next day. Aziraphale was disappointed, but he understood. They had all the time in the world to get dinner now, one postponed meal was nothing to pout about.

Still, the bookshop felt different without Crowley there. It would always be the angel's favorite place, full of all of his favorite things, but without Crowley some of the charm seemed to fade away. There was always a _feeling_ in the air wherever Crowley was. A gentle and comforting warmth that Aziraphale's brain kept labeling as ' _affection_ ' and ' _love_ ' and Aziraphale kept labeling ' _don't think about it too much_ '. For his own sanity, of course. The feeling was always there, to some degree, whenever they were together. Aziraphale, of course, could identify love in the blink of an eye, he was an angel after all. But there was something about the thought that Crowley could feel that way about _him_ that made Aziraphale pause. It couldn't be possible. Could it? Could Crowley really _love_ him?

Aziraphale choked on his wine. He was thinking about it too much and that was definitely not going to ease his restless feelings. He needed to find things to do. Maybe some mindless busy work. Something that would, perhaps, take his mind off his demon friend and any feelings said demon may have. Productive things. A stack of boxes caught his eye. They were overflowing with books, just waiting to be sorted and shelved or squirreled away to a corner for Aziraphale to hide away for himself. He set his wine glass down with a determined thunk and made his way to the boxes. Maybe straightening up his bookshop would be just the thing to take his mind off all his new worries. He nodded to himself and got to work, pulling out books and figuring out just where they all belonged.

The sun was shining down warm and pleasant when Crowley ignored the prominent 'closed' sign on the door of Aziraphale's bookshop and strode inside. He made it about four steps inside before he tripped over a pile of empty boxes. He hit the floor with an inelegant grunt.

Aziraphale popped his head up from behind a low bookshelf and spotted the demon sprawled out among the empty boxes. "Oh dear," he exhaled and stepped carefully through his cluttered shop to Crowley.

Crowley laid still on the floor for a moment before he groaned loudly. He rolled over onto his back and saw Aziraphale standing over him, wringing his hands. "Are you all right?" the angel asked, worry all over his face.

Crowley righted his sunglasses and popped his head up to scan around the shop. It looked like the shelves had thrown up in the night. "I'll live," he groused. He managed to sit up and brushed his jacket off. "What happened?" He nudged an empty box with his foot and looked up at the angel.

Aziraphale extended his hand, a silent offer to help Crowley. The demon grabbed it and allowed himself to be gently assisted off his backside. He released Aziraphale's hand as soon as he was on two feet. Aziraphale stared at his own hand, mourning the loss of contact.

"Angel, what happened?" Crowley asked again, a bit more forceful.

"Oh, the bookshop! It is a bit of a mess, isn't it?" Aziraphale looked around and made a small, distressed sound. "I decided to tidy up a bit last night," he explained meekly.

"Tidy up?" Crowley looked around he bookshop again, a garble of consonants and vowels bubbling up in his throat.

"It's a work in progress," Aziraphale laughed weakly. Crowley raised his eyebrows. "A lot of work," the angel sighed.

"How about a lunch break then?" Crowley asked through a sly smile.

"That would be lovely!" Aziraphale bounced on his toes a bit. "I'll just get my coat and --" he yelped loudly as he slipped on stray piece of cardboard. Crowley reached out immediately and grabbed the angel around the waist with both hands. Aziraphale took a deep breath and felt himself go a little pink. Then he felt it. An impossible rush of pure warmth and affection. He stared into Crowley's sunglasses, watched himself in their reflection as he struggled to make his mouth work.

Crowley released Aziraphale once he was confident the angel wasn't going to end up ass over tea kettle on the floor. He cleared his throat and looked down at his own feet and the mess of cardboard littering the ground. With a snap of his fingers, he cleared the shop of the empty boxes. Aziraphale gasped softly, a distressed look crossing his face. "No worries, angel, they're all in your recycling bin out back," Crowley reassured. He snapped his fingers again and Aziraphale's coat draped itself over his arm. "Come on, let's _get a wiggle on_ ", Crowley teased as he pulled the door of the bookshop open.

Aziraphale couldn't remember how to make his all too human legs move. Crowley cocked his head sideways and smiled, just barely. The warm feeling returned. Aziraphale wasn't sure if it was the affection he'd felt before or just a terrible blush working its way over his entire body. He swallowed thickly and forced his legs to get with the program. He walked briskly through the door into the perfect afternoon.

The warm, affectionate feeling hung over them all through their lunch at Aziraphale's favorite sushi place.

* * *

A light drizzle fell outside and enveloped the city in a peaceful hush. The overcast sky hid the sun that undoubtedly rose in the east that morning. Aziraphale stood at a window in his bookshop, cup of cocoa in hand, and watched as the city awoke to another chilly morning. People rushed about trying to get on with their day and out of the damp conditions. He smiled to himself, thinking about how lucky he was, everyone on earth really, that they could have another day. Even if it was chilly and damp. No one else knew the significance of the day, but that didn't matter, he could still be a little extra cheerful.

He glanced at the calendar on his desk, once more, just to be sure. It seemed impossible that three months had passed since the _Tadfield incident_ as he'd taken to calling it. Crowley rolled his eyes exaggeratedly every time which only made Aziraphale say it more. He smiled fondly as he thought of the demon. Carefully, he set his cocoa down on his desk and puttered over to a bookshelf in the back of the shop where a little terracotta pot sat, filled with succulents.

"I hope he likes you," Aziraphale cooed gently at the plant. He'd been quite surprised when he'd gone to Crowley's flat after the _Tadfield incident_ and discovered the demon's lovely plant collection. He couldn't quite get the hang of horticulture himself. Sure, he could miracle plants into perfect condition if he wanted, but it just felt like cheating. Crowley worked at it, really honestly watered and tended his plants to keep them alive. Aziraphale didn't happen to agree with the demon's tendency to scream unforgivable things at the poor plants, but he worked at it nonetheless.

The little bundle of succulents had practically called out to Aziraphale as he'd passed by a shop a few days ago and spotted them in the window. They would make a nice three month celebration gift of sorts he'd thought. So he promptly bought them and brought them back to his bookshop and hoped they'd stay alive long enough for him to give them to Crowley. Aziraphale smiled at the little plants and then made his way back to his desk. He sank down into his chair and lost himself in a particularly interesting novel, sipping his cocoa every now and again.

The angel was so engrossed in his book that the bell ringing above his door startled him. He looked up at the small clock on his desk and was shocked to learn more than four hours had passed. Delicately, he closed his book and rose from his desk. Crowley stood in the entrance of the bookshop cleaning his glasses off with his shirt. Aziraphale smiled to himself as he watched his oldest companion try to rid himself of the day's drizzle.

"Angel, you didn't forget we're going to lunch today did you? You were the one who insisted it had to be today!" Crowley called as he looked around for Aziraphale.

"Of course not, dear! I thought we might have a little drink before we set out though," Aziraphale explained as he waved Crowley to the back of the shop. The demon followed and flung himself onto the familiar old love seat. Aziraphale appeared in front of him in short order with a tray of champagne, two coupe glasses, and a nicely wrapped little gift box.

The tray was deposited on the coffee table and Crowley immediately snatched the champagne up. "Fancy," he drawled as he inspected the label. He tipped the bottle in Aziraphale's direction and grinned. "May I?"

"Of course," Aziraphale agreed, and Crowley popped the cork expertly. The demon poured them both a glass and laid back on the love seat. Aziraphale sat on the very edge of the armchair across from him and glanced nervously at the gift box. He slid it in the demon's direction. "This is for you," he mumbled, patting the red bow lightly.

Crowley sat up and pulled the box closer to him. "What is it?" His brows furrowed as he poked at the bow.

"Open it," Aziraphale urged eagerly.

Crowley pulled at the ribbon and the bow came undone in a perfect, fluid motion. He tore at the red and black striped paper, and eventually came face to face with the terracotta pot full of succulents. He said nothing, simply stared at the little pot of plants and all their wonderful shades of green.

Aziraphale smiled nervously and leaned forward a bit in his chair. "I hope you like them. I know they're not as exotic as the plants you have in your flat, but I thought they were just so charming and --"

"Why'd you get them for me?"

Aziraphale's mouth hung open ever so slightly for a moment. "If you don't like them --"

"I didn't say that," Crowley insisted as he delicately rubbed one of the succulent's leaves. "I just... why'd you get them for me?"

Aziraphale fidgeted. "It's been three months... since, you know, the _Tadfield incident_." Crowley rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. Aziraphale suppressed a rogue giggle and continued. "I thought it might be a nice gesture to get you a gift to commemorate it. In a way."

Crowley turned the pot around in his hands as he inspected all of the little plants. "I've never had a succulent," he mused.

"If you don't like them I can just keep them here in the bookshop," Aziraphale suggested quickly. He snatched his champagne coupe off the coffee table and took a sizable drink. Maybe he'd gone too far. Of course he had. Crowley didn't want a _gift_ , he was a demon. Just as he was about to apologize, he felt it. The pleasant and comforting warmth that had a tendency to roll off Crowley when they were together.

"They're... cute," Crowley said under his breath. Aziraphale's eyes went wide. "Not a single word," the demon pointed a finger in his companion's direction. Delicately, he set the pot down atop the mound of shredded wrapping paper and leaned back against the love seat again. He took a sip of champagne and studied Aziraphale over his sunglasses. "It's really been three months?"

Aziraphale nodded silently.

"I didn't get you anything." Crowley murmured. He looked at the angel as if he were seeking absolution.

Aziraphale let out a shaky breath and fiddled with his pinky ring. "You don't have to. Your company is a gift of its own," he smiled softly. The comfortable warmth that had draped around them grew more intense. ' _It's love!'_ his brain screamed at full volume. He took a big sip of champagne and told his brain to absolutely shut it.

"The Ritz then?" Crowley arched one eyebrow over his sunglasses and smirked.

Aziraphale lowered his gaze and blushed. "That would be lovely."

Crowley snapped his fingers. "You're in luck. A table for two just became available."

It was the second best meal Aziraphale ever had at the Ritz.

* * *

The cafè was a charming little spot Aziraphale had discovered a few years back and had instantly fallen in love with. They had some of the very best biscotti the angel had ever eaten. Their coffees were also sublime. So the little cafè naturally became a spot Aziraphale and Crowley visited often. They frequented the place so much they had their own 'spot'. A cozy little table in the back corner where they could talk and sip cappuccinos in peace. They were seated at their aforementioned spot one afternoon, enjoying the calm silence that had fallen over them, when a server deposited two more biscotti on the table. The woman smiled softly at the pair and walked away. 

Crowley slid the small plate in Aziraphale's direction. "Enjoy," he raised his eyebrows, playful smirk on his face.

Aziraphale dabbed his mouth with his napkin and shook his head quickly. "Oh, better not."

Crowley shot him a puzzled look. "Why not? You like them."

The angel's hands slid down to his waist and he frowned. "Not like I need them," he muttered, staring down to where his hands rested on his stomach.

Crowley almost looked angry. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm not as... fit... as an angel should be and, well, I don't think more biscotti are going to help." Aziraphale's frown deepened as he stared at the oblong little cookies. It had been months since Gabriel had made the biting remarks about Aziraphale's physique and for the most part the angel had pushed it from his mind. But every now and then the words floated back into his mind and made him self conscious. "I don't look very angelic," he muttered.

"You look fine, have the damn biscotti," Crowley reassured firmly, sliding the plate farther in Aziraphale's direction.

"I really shouldn't."

Crowley sighed. "Where did this come from? All of a sudden you're worried about your _figure_?"

Aziraphale fidgeted in his chair. "I don't look like the rest --"

"You look absolutely fine," Crowley interrupted. "So you're a bit more... substantial than those twits up there in their ivory tower. Who cares! They aren't particularly great themselves, let me tell you. Stuffy assholes the whole lot." Crowley trailed off a moment as he thought about his brief visit to heaven, how they had treated him when they believed he was Aziraphale. It made his blood boil. He picked at his napkin for a minute and calmed himself. "You're better than all of them. Always have been. You look like Aziraphale and that's all that matters." Crowley stared at his tattered napkin.

Aziraphale lowered his head. "You really think so?"

Crowley looked over his sunglasses. "I really do. I like the way you look," he mumbled quickly.

Aziraphale's head shot up and he stared at the demon seated beside him. Crowley stared right back, albeit a little nervously. The warm, affectionate feeling suddenly filled the space between them and Aziraphale smiled gently. He slid the plate between them. "I'll have one if you do," the angel suggested coyly.

Crowley picked a biscotti up delicately with his thumb and index finger and dipped it in his remaining cappuccino. "Oh, these _are_ good," he gasped, mouth full of cookie.

"I've been telling you that for years, dear." Aziraphale dipped his own biscotti in his cappuccino and grinned at the demon.

Crowley rolled his eyes and took another bite of his biscotti. "These are so good, I almost wish I could take credit for them," he stated, staring at the cookie.

Aziraphale gave him reproachful look

"I said almost," Crowley drawled.

They both fell silent for a moment before they smirked at one another conspiratorially. Aziraphale felt a bold streak run through him and he nudged Crowley's knee with his own. The affectionate feeling became so strong Aziraphale physically shifted in his seat, overcome with the emotion of it all. Crowley glanced over at him briefly but said nothing. The angel just smiled at his friend warmly and took another sip of his cappuccino.

* * *

Aziraphale startled at the sound of the bell above his door chiming. The sun was almost completely set outside, the curtains drawn for the night inside, and the angel was not in the mood for any more customers. He rose to his feet from his snug arm chair and puttered to the front of the shop. "We are _definitely_ closed for the --" he stopped abruptly when he spotted Crowley stepping through his door. He took in a shaky breath and smiled. "Crowley," he beamed, "What are you doing here? It's very cold out. Here, come sit. I'll fix some tea." Aziraphale gestured for the demon to follow him. 

Crowley, of course, trailed after the angel to the back of the bookshop. He removed his black wool coat and gray scarf and draped them over the arm of the love seat he'd, at some point, claimed as his own. Just as he was splaying out on the small sofa, Aziraphale reappeared with two cups of steaming tea. He handed one to Crowley with a gentle smile and took his seat across from him. Crowley fished a flask out of a pocket from the coat he'd draped on the love seat and poured a generous amount of dark liquor into his tea.

"Care for a nip?" Crowley asked, tipping the flask at Aziraphale.

"Why not!" Aziraphale held out his cup and Crowley smiled as he topped it off. "What brings you by? I know you don't like to go out in the cold!" Aziraphale took a delicate sip of his tea and leaned back in his chair.

Crowley took a sip straight from the flask and smirked as Aziraphale shook his head. He slipped the flask back in his coat pocket and grabbed a little box that had rested beside it. "Got you something," he stated plainly as he placed the box on the coffee table. He took a drink of his tea and watched the angel.

Aziraphale studied the box for a moment and then leaned forward and grabbed it. The plastic wrapping crinkled beneath his fingers as he read the label. "Chocolates?"

"Swiss," Crowley said proudly.

"Thank you," Aziraphale cooed.

"Go ahead, try 'em," Crowley encouraged. He sipped more tea to hide his delighted smile.

Aziraphale set his cup down gingerly and unwrapped the box. He popped a chocolate in his mouth and made a pleased little sound. Crowley cursed himself for putting his flask away.

"Divine," Aziraphale practically purred.

Crowley choked on his tea.

"You came all the way over here in this cold just to give me chocolates?" Aziraphale asked, studying the rest of his treats.

Crowley cocked his head to the side and made a garbled noise in his throat. "Well, yeah."

"Why?"

"It's been six months."

Aziraphale furrowed his brow.

"Since the... _Tadfield incident_ ," Crowley scowled, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly.

Aziraphale's entire face lit up. "Oh, Crowley. Thank you! You didn't have to!" Affection spilled into the room and seemed to touch every corner of the shop. It sloshed over the book shelves and poured into their seats and Aziraphale felt like he might drown in it.

Crowley pushed his sunglasses up on his nose nervously. "Don't have to do a lot of things." He shrugged casually and sipped more of his tea. "Wasn't a very original idea anyhow," he said under his breath.

"What do you mean?" the angel shook his head.

Crowley tipped his cup back exaggeratedly and finished off his tea. He really shouldn't have put his flask away. "I, uh, I brought you chocolates once. Before," he admitted into the empty porcelain cup he still held in front of his lips. Aziraphale looked at him in confusion. "Different chocolates, of course. Well, still Swiss but not those particular ones," Crowley added, pointing to the box. Aziraphale continued to stare. Crowley sighed. "When you opened the place," he waved a hand around indicating the bookshop, "I brought some chocolates for you. As a sort of gift. Never actually got to give them to you though."

"Whyever not?" Aziraphale had a distressed look on his face.

"That prick Gabriel was here." Crowley leaned forward and set his empty cup on the low table. He rested his elbows on his knees and looked across at Aziraphale, a thousand confessions dying in his throat.

"He really did know how to ruin things, didn't he? Prick indeed." Aziraphale set the chocolates down beside Crowley's empty cup. The demon smirked at him and once again, the overwhelming feeling of affection barged into their space, demanding to be known. "Thank you," Aziraphale said again, seriously. "You're my dearest friend, Crowley. I couldn't imagine all my time here on Earth without you."

The affectionate feeling grew almost stifling. It practically grabbed Aziraphale by the shoulders and shouted ' _Love. It's Love. Pure Love._ ' in his face. The angel took a steadying breath. "It's quite cold out," he mused quietly. "And it's getting so late. You could, if you wanted to, stay here for the night."

Crowley nearly slipped right off the little sofa. "I wouldn't want to impose, angel. Really, I have the Bentley outside. I'll manage," he rambled as he ran his hands through his hair. "It is late though, I should probably go, yeah? You probably have... book things to do." He snatched his coat and scarf off the arm of the love seat and pulled them on as quick as he could. The demon was at the door before Aziraphale could even process what exactly had just happened.

"Did I say something --"

"No! No, I just... I should go. Home. To sleep."

And just like that, Crowley ducked out the door and left Aziraphale standing alone in his bookshop. He swallowed thickly and stared at the door.

Crowley leaned against his Bentley outside and gazed wistfully at the bookshop for a heart beat. With a determined nod he threw the door to the car open and got in. He'd sleep on his feelings for a bit and regain his composure.

* * *

Crowds of jovial people moved through the streets despite the late hour and the chill in the air. Aziraphale watched them through a foggy window from inside his bookshop. New Years Eve was always a favorite little human tradition of his. A time to celebrate, to remember, to start fresh. It was quite delightful, really. He hummed contentedly as he watched a young couple, arm in arm, share a quick peck beneath a street lamp. The bell above the shop door jingled and Aziraphale tore his eyes away from the window. 

"Angel!" Crowley called from the entrance, "I brought champagne to celebrate! Nearly midnight now! Where are you?" The demon gesticulated wildly with the bottle.

Aziraphale walked over and took the champagne from Crowley's hand. "Seems like you started without me," he speculated, looking over the label on the bottle. "Good stuff." He smiled and began to disappear into the back of the shop to get his coupe glasses.

Crowley coasted along behind him, bobbing his head to the tune of a song only he could hear. Aziraphale placed everything on the coffee table at their usual spot and turned to face him. Crowley grabbed his forearm gently and grinned wide. "We can't do this _here_ ," he said gesturing at their intimate little nook.

Aziraphale's face scrunched up in confusion.

"We have to go out. Outside! Gotta hear the people cheering and reveling in it! Let's go to the roof!" He pulled at the angel's arm excitedly.

Aziraphale went easily, clutching the bottle and glasses to his chest with his free arm.

The night air was very crisp, their breaths left trails in their wake as the made their way to the middle of the roof. Crowley snapped his fingers and two wicker chairs and a small table appeared. "'S perfect," he slurred as he dropped down into one of the chairs.

Aziraphale carefully set the bottle and glasses down on the table and took a seat in the remaining chair. "It is lovely up here." He looked up at the sky, the stars twinkling over them.

"Lovely," Crowley agreed quietly, studying Aziraphale's face.

A sudden burst of warmth enveloped them like a blanket and Aziraphale cleared his throat. "Would you like to do the honors?" he asked as he offered Crowley the bottle of champagne.

Crowley reached over and grasped the bottle, his fingers lying over Aziraphale's for a moment. He looked the angel square in the eyes. Neither moved. Finally, Aziraphale slid his fingers from under Crowley's and placed his hand in his lap. Crowley frowned for a split second but quickly regained his senses and got to work popping the champagne open. He poured them two generous glasses and leaned back in his chair.

Aziraphale took his glass and held it close to his chest. He watched Crowley intently as he took a drink. Crowley downed half of his own glass in one go. "How much did you _revel_ before you got here?"

"A bit. Not much. Two bottles worth." Crowley shrugged and finished his glass.

Aziraphale instinctively poured him another. They sat in silence for a while, staring up at the night sky. It was nice. Peaceful. Random cheers could be heard from the streets below. Every now and then a stray 'pop' from a confetti popper could be heard. It was a nice way to celebrate the evening.

After a while, Crowley reached up and removed his sunglasses, depositing them safely on the table. He kept his eyes on the stars. "Hard to believe it's all still here sometimes," he said, craning his neck to take in more of the darkened sky.

Aziraphale hummed in agreement. "It is indeed. I'm thankful we're both here to enjoy it though."

Silence came over them again for a moment, the demon studying the sky carefully. Crowley pointed a wobbly hand in the direction of a jumble of stars. "Somewhere, in that general vicinity, is Alpha Centauri." He squinted a bit and moved his hand. "Yeah, that's it." He turned his head and smiled softly at Aziraphale.

The angel set his glass down on the table and grabbed Crowley's outstretched hand, lowering it between them. Aziraphale got lost in the demon's amber eyes for a moment. "I'd go now," he whispered. Crowley looked unbelievably melancholy. "If it all happened again, I'd go. With you. Wherever you wanted to go."

The words echoed through Crowley's brain. He remembered the bandstand. He remembered sitting in his Bentley, clutching a tartan thermos to his chest. He linked his fingers with Aziraphale's. "Angel," he sighed, bringing their joined hands to his lips. Aziraphale inhaled sharply. In the streets below the cheering became louder, bursts of fireworks went off.

"Must be midnight," Aziraphale said absentmindedly, never taking his eyes off Crowley.

"Happy New Year, angel."

"Happy New Year, dear."

The affection emanating from Crowley seeped through their joined hands and warmed Aziraphale to his bones. He couldn't help himself. He leaned over and planted a chaste kiss next to Crowley's tattoo.

Crowley closed his eyes and laid back in his chair. Aziraphale followed suit. Their hands remained linked, resting on the table between them.

* * *

The sun was out for the first time in days. It made everything feel new. There were some clouds still lingering on, but the sun persisted. Aziraphale decided that kind of weather was just the perfect reason not to open the bookshop for the day. He'd picked up the phone and invited Crowley to a picnic in the park. Crowley had whined a bit, but there was no real irritation in his voice. They met at noon, under a shady tree, in a quaint little park. 

A tartan blanket was spread out on the grass, a picnic basket open wide, plates and cups strewn about. Crowley and Aziraphale laid flat on their backs on the soft blanket, sated from their little afternoon meal. Crowley rolled ever so slightly to his side and watched the angel. He could have reached out and touched him they were so close. His eyes were closed, lips turned up in a small smile. The soft sunlight filtered down through the tree leaves, illuminating his face. He looked like the definition of an angel. Crowley sighed.

"Thank you for coming," Aziraphale murmured. His eyes remained closed.

"'Course," Crowley replied lazily, shrugging for his own benefit since the angel wasn't actually watching him. "Were those biscotti from our little cafè?" he asked casually.

Aziraphale's eyes came open slowly, smile widening. "They were! You liked them so much I thought what better treat to bring." Affection flitted its way across the small space between them and rested in the angel's chest. He felt impossibly warm. He turned onto his side and looked at Crowley, drawing up all his courage. "It's always so _warm_ when I'm with you," he whispered, just barely loud enough for the demon to hear. Crowley tensed up. Aziraphale slowly reached over and pulled his sunglasses off. Crowley swallowed nervously and his gaze darted everywhere but the angel's face.

Aziraphale laid his hand out gently over Crowley's. "It's a nice feeling," he reassured. "Familiar and cozy." He stroked the back of Crowley's hand with his thumb. The demon turned his hand over and linked their fingers together. Aziraphale let his eyes drift closed again. "I didn't used to like to think about it, it was too complicated. But now... now if I stop thinking about it I feel like I'll get lost somehow." He opened his eyes and found Crowley staring right back at him.

Crowley shifted closer on the blanket, rested his forehead against Aziraphale's. "I've been worried for so long that you'd find out," he breathed. "I thought you'd leave."

Aziraphale moved slowly, pressed his lips softly on Crowley's. The demon responded by reaching out and tugging Aziraphale closer, deepening the kiss. They didn't know how long they laid there like that, in the shade, tangled up in one another.

"I'd never leave, Crowley. I love you," Aziraphale whispered against the demon's lips.

Crowley kissed him again, languid and warm. "I love you too. But I guess you already figured that out, didn't you?" he laughed against the angel's lips.

Aziraphale ducked his head into the crook of Crowley's neck. "I only wish I'd said something sooner," he mouthed against tender skin.

"Now's just perfect," Crowley sighed, rubbing his hand over the angel's back.

They'd return for many picnics after that, laying out on the tartan blanket under the same tree. But that one in particular, their first, would always be their favorite.

**Author's Note:**

> So...this is a thing I wrote cause I've lost all control of my life and I feel completely destroyed by these two. Enjoy.
> 
> kudos and comments make my day ♥


End file.
